Scarecrows

By Michael Bray

Once you're in, they'll never let you go....

When three teenagers decide to explore the local legend of the crazy old man on Samsonite farm and the army of scarecrows he has built, they soon discover that not all urban legends are false, and sometimes the biggest threat comes from within. 

For Dwayne and his friends, a battle against a supernatural creature which uses the samsonite scarecrows to do it's bidding will unfold as trust is broken and truth becomes blurred amid the unbelievable reality of the situation they are in and cannot escape from.

Praise for the works of the author:

Digs into the depth of the readers fear and plays on it.' 

'Wild, weird, and wonderfully imaginative!' 

'In the spirit of Stephen King, Michael Bray has created a page turning gem. If you love horror, you need to read this story.' 

'The story itself was dark and shocking'

'This is one of the best horror stories I have read in ages! It is absolutely grisly, gruesome and nasty'

'A great moral tale with a sting, and a bite, a chop, the odd missing foot and various other nasties.' 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Bray
• Release date: Nov 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540172433

Book preview

Spyder was drunk, and pushed the cherry red convertible up past seventy, cheering and whooping as he sat with one elbow hanging out of the window.  His mother had died earlier that day, and Spyder’s answer had been not to spend the day with his family in their mourning, but to go out and get shit-faced. It was all a front of course, but for Spyder (or Dwayne to his family or anyone outside of his school) it was the reaction that people would have expected.

It was a hot, sticky July day, and the Red missile which was piloted by the grieving teen tore across the blacktop, the miles of empty country roads perfect for their endeavours. They thundered past Oakwell Forest, veering at speed around the occasional traffic on the road, and through the industrial area where Dwayne’s father had worked at the lumber mill before he was laid off.

Hey, maybe you should slow down.

Spyder glanced to the passenger seat, and his friend Randy squirmed a little. Perhaps he saw a little of the hurt in Dwayne’s eyes, or maybe he was just scared. Either way, he didn’t elaborate, and by way of reply, increased his speed, pushing the car even harder.

In the back, Kenny whooped and cheered, and almost as drunk as their driver, either didn’t acknowledge or didn’t care about the potential danger of the situation.

Yeah, Spyder, come on man, redline this thing! Whooped the acne ravaged Kenny, who flicked a grin missing both of its front teeth at Randy, who was glaring at him from the front.

What’s with you? Kenny asked, the venom in his voice hard to miss. Randy wasn’t afraid of Kenny, or anyone else for that matter. He was a wrestler, and one of the best in the school. Undefeated, he had the luxury of a high school life untroubled by the constant tests to see who the alpha male was. It was him, and nobody disputed it. He would never admit it, but he was, however, just a little bit afraid of Dwayne.

He wasn’t a physical threat, Randy was sure that if things ever came to blows he could overpower him, but something in his personality, just little things like the way he would get a look in his eye that made you wonder just what the hell he was capable of. It was moments like that which caused him caution, and why he didn’t quite want to commit to taking control of this particular situation.  And even as his eyes flicked from his friend — his prominent cheekbones and strong jaw framed by the moonlight as he stared at the road ahead — to the speedometer, which was close to the 90mph redline that Kenny seemed so desperate to reach, he tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

Dwayne took a long drink of the beer that had been nestled on the front seat between his legs, and Randy saw that, for a few seconds, both of Dwayne’s hands were off the wheel, and the car began to drift into the opposite lane.

Hey, hey man, the wheel, Randy warned, reaching out to steady the vehicle, but Dwayne didn’t take too kindly to the intrusion and pushed his friend's hands away.

Leave it alone, I got it. Slurred Dwayne, as he took control of the vehicle.

Hey man, stop being such a pussy, Kenny added as he drained his bottle and tossed it over his head, where it smashed some way behind the speeding car.

Jesus Kenny, you could have hit someone with that thing, Randy said, glaring for the second time in quick succession at their back seat passenger. Normally it would be enough, but Kenny had been made brave by alcohol, and he sneered at Randy, and then glanced at Dwayne.

Hey Spyder, why the hell did we bring this guy with us?

Whaddyamean?

"This guy, he’s dragging me down with all